


Other Side

by Damalia (Achrya)



Series: Jean and his Otherworldly Boyfriends [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, M/M, Multi, Pervy touching, Tails, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6479527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shorts stories in the 'You Sound Just Like a Song' AU that let us see things from PoV's other than Jean's. AKA Jean's boyfriends are weirdos who get up to really strange things when he isn't around to supervise him (and sometimes even when he is around.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> Two bits before Jean's birthday as seen in[ Just Last A Year](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6474301)
> 
> A Terrible Person: How do Marco and Darcio go about buying lingerie anyway
> 
> Make Me: Marco and Darcio's relationship is...complicated. (Or Darcio is a brat, Marco is tired of his shit and has some latent control issues.)

**A Terrible Person**

Marco tapped the arrow on the keyboard, staring thoughtfully at the pictures on the screen. Humans, mostly female, very scantily clad and in various provocative poses meant to emphasize their clothing. He wasn’t entirely sure he grasp the concept of lingerie, it seemed silly to him since nudity was much more ‘to the point’, something their human seemed to value, but Darcio was being insistent. 

_“Sometimes it’s not about the present, it’s how you wrap it.” The demon had said, grinning at him as his tail twitched back and forth eagerly. “And we want to give Jean well wrapped gifts, don’t we?”_

All his time on the human plane, all that time spent with Darcio and Jean and Jean’s friends, was affecting him more and faster than he’s expected. Instead of ignoring the demon he’d found himself lured over to the computer chair and involved in the search. 

At this point he couldn’t have returned home even if he wanted to. Aside from the wings he’d had torn from his back, the piercings that Darcio called ‘Typical Angelic rebellion against the rules about modifying their bodies’, and all the human traits he was picking up, he found himself occasionally fond of a demon. 

If loving a human had caused him to fall who knew what affection for Darcio would result in. 

He told himself it was just that he also wanted Jean’s ‘gift’ to be a good one, so much so that he was the one who’d suggested it to a very bewildered looking Darcio. He was well aware that Jean had fantasies about the two of them being intimate and it wasn’t as if it wasn’t something that had happened before, though not since they’d been willingly punished and cast out of their respective homes. 

Darcio was willing, of course (Marco strongly suspected his questionable bloodline included more that a few Incubi and Succubi but the demon was resistant to the idea, in spite of the large batlike wings, a known lust demon trait, his back runes kept at bay.) but he’d thought it was best they leave behind their perhaps ill advised tendency to turn to each other when they’d lost Jean. 

At first it had been an easy resolve to stick to. Darcio was annoying at the best of times and between helping Jean settle into the idea of their constant presence and dealing with leaving is life behind in the wake of a betrayal that still made his heart hurt there hadn’t been any time to dwell on it. Sex with Darcio was just a shameful emotionless thing he’d done to deal with grief and mounting confusion with his role among the Angelic Host. 

Was he a soldier, a leader of other soldiers, a shepherd and protector of special souls like Jean’s, perhaps just carefully chosen bait for those same souls, someone who stood against demons or someone who hid among the shadows on the human plane to kiss them. 

Of course now he was none of that, had lost everything and had friends turn on him in an instant and paid for it. He liked to think he’d do it all the same if he could, lose his wings and fall for Jean without a second thought. 

For Jean he’d imagined he’d do a lot of things. 

“Hey, that one. Stop.” Darcio leaned over him and Marco’s eyes traced the runes inked deep into his skin then followed the curve of his spine down.

Yes. For Jean. 

He pushed the demon away, eyebrow going up at the sight of a woman in a pristine white corset that boasted pink frills and a tiny pink bow along the top, pink ribbons as it’s lacing. He looked up at Darcio who was grinning manically, tail thrashing almost violently in his excitement. 

“That one?” 

“Yes.” There was no room for question in the demon’s voice and Marco knew when to just let something lie. Of course he’d normally push anyway, enjoyed getting the demon flustered and putting him off balance, but Jean wasn’t around to see it so there wasn’t much point. 

“And the matching underwear.” 

Marco looked at the tiny frilly things, white lace with more pink ribbon zig-zagging up the sides. He didn’t think about what Darcio would look like trying to fit himself in them. 

Didn’t. 

“How are we paying for this.” The corset was expensive and he wasn’t sure he liked the idea of using Jean’s money for his birthday. 

A credit card dropped onto the desk next to his hand. He sighed, starting to shake his head.

“It’s fine. He was a terrible person.” 

“You always say that.” 

Darcio nodded. “And I always mean it. I promise. Absolutely terrible. Deserves this.” 

Marco reached up to rub at the bridge of his noise, wondering if the stories he’d grown up on, about extended time on the human plane warping brains, had been true. It had been 9 months, 6 months longer than a standard mission, and he was actually starting to think he enjoyed Darcio’s company. 

Someone who stole, lied, and hurt humans without so much as a twinge of remorse. He was antagonistic, foul mouthed, vile, and

“Those knee highs match. Them too.”

Marco looked at the knee highs, sheer white with pink lace and more bows at the top. Looked down at Darcio’s legs: long, tan, and muscular, toenails naturally dark. Thought about how they’d look wrapped in white, the color of clean and pure things, something a demon could never be. Certainly not one like Darcio, raised to use his body and charm like Marco used a sword. 

Felt a shameful curl of heat in his belly. 

He swallowed. “I can’t do anything with just-”

A drivers license and a slip of paper with a phone number on it fell onto the desk. He stared. Looked back at Darcio, picturing him in white and soft pink. 

“How terrible?” 

Darcio smiled, showing his teeth again. “The worst.” 

 

 

**Make Me**

The box with the items they’d bought came a week later. They’d had them sent to Sasha and Connie’s apartment, just in case Jean was home when the package arrived. This meant enduring Sasha’s amused questioning when she brought it by, which somehow turned into her bringing down a pair of white heels her friend Ymir had left behind that was pretty sure Darcio would be able to fit into. 

And then cookies and tea while they talked about the less private surprise party they were planning for Jean. 

It wasn’t actually so much enduring the visit as genuinely enjoying Sasha’s company, and her latest cookie recipe, and appreciating the distraction from Darcio walking around in tiny denim shirts and high heels. 

Sasha was less inclined to be distracted, laughing and whistling everytime Darcio walked past the kitchen. Which was often. Because the demon was a tease and a show off who reveled in the attention of others. 

Not that it mattered to Marco. Except that Darcio was shameless. Sasha was engaged afterall and there was no reason to be parading around in front of her like that, with that exaggerated sway of his hips and tail, with his legs and behind looking like they did. 

Sometimes he missed the simplicity of training with his fellow angels, of having a sword in hand, a target in sight, and a goal in mind. 

By the time Sasha ledt, promising to be back in a few days so they could try put cake recipes for the party, he was feeling uncomfortable and annoyed, which was par for the course when dealing with Darcio. He wished Jean didn’t insist on things like classes and working because the demon was much easier to deal with when Jean was around to keep him in line. 

Not that Marco couldn’t keep him in line because he could have. Not like Jean did, with affection and care because Darcio would laugh at that and scorn it, but with a firm hand and discipline. That was how he and other angels were trained by the Archangel Shadis and while it wasn’t fun they were well equipped and at least physically ready because of it. 

Mentally was a different story and one he prefered not to think about. 

“What do you think?" 

Speaking of. Marco looked up from the spot on the table he’d been staring at to look at Darcio. Then blinked, unable to think of any words as heat, and blood, rushed south. The demon had come into the kitchen while he’d been lost in his thoughts, was now standing next to his chair dressed in all white and pink, bows and ribbons and lace and

It was wrong for Darcio to look so…sweet. All that clean white, pretty pink, and delicacy, the touches of softness and roundness to his freckled face, just didn’t belong on someone who was all sharp teeth and sin. 

But there he was, hands clasped behind his back and biting his lip in a way that seemed almost nervous.

When Marco didn’t say anything he frowned, pouted really, before turning in a slow circle to better show off. Marco looked him over from toe to head, lingering longer than he would have liked on ass and tail, then looked away. 

"Will your wings be okay in that?” His voice was remarkably steady considering. 

“Will my- why does it matter?” He wasn’t looking but could picture the demon glaring at him, posture and expression defensive. 

“Jean likes seeing your wings. If that corset won’t let them out comfortably it won’t work.” He hoped it wouldn’t. He was accepting of the idea of having sex with Darcio for Jean’s pleasure but this display was…

Well it was an issue. He wanted to pull it all right off of the demon and then hold him down to feel him squirm and shake, hear him beg and cry like

Like before he’d put all of those impulses away.

He couldn’t help but think anything else would be better.

The demon huffed. “I am not showing them." 

"You will for Jean.” Marco chanced a look, forcing himself to focus on irritation and not other things like the fact Jean wouldn’t care either way and would never ask Darcio such a thing. “Would it kill you to do as you’re told without arguing?”

“Fuck off.” Was the demon’s snarled reply. “The answer is no, so drop it.”

Darcio spun on his heel, clearly considering the conversation dismissed. Marco almost let him go, resolved instead to just meditate the unwelcome emotion away, and was even going to apologize for trying to force an issue, under false pretense. 

Such a thing was shameful.

He reached out and caught the demon by the wrist, meant to stop him from leaving before he could apologize. Darcio hissed and yanked away, eye blazing with fury. 

“Do you not understand what fuck off means all of a sudden or is that angel superiority complex acting up and making you think you can order me around? Unless you’ve forgotten you’re an exile and about as useful as a human nightlight. No flaming sword or squad, just a shitty apartment and a lowly demon to keep you company. You can’t make me-”

Marco sometimes forgot Darcio’s words could be as sharp as his teeth. Also that Darcio tended to get defensive and angry with little provacation. Darcio and Jean had that in common, short fuses the burned fast and hot. Marco wasn’t like that, was slow to anger and even slower to let it show. 

As it turned out being reminded of his exile in such a nasty manner was a trigger. 

He would have to remember that in the future. 

For the time being however he was angry, furious, and tired of Darcio’s mouth. He’d been letting the demon prance about, tease and insult him, watched him flirt with anything with a pulse (and yes, it bothered him), and had to fight for Jean’s attention constantly, all because he felt indebted. Like their exile was his fault and because it could have been worse if Darcio hadn’t been there to take part of Marco’s punishment. 

But there was indebted and then there was all of this.

He was up, grabbing the demon by the back of the neck and slamming him against the table before he even realized he was doing it. Darcio lashed out, thrashed and kicked and tries to lever himself back up but Marco kept him down with little effort. 

“I guess exile doesn’t change that I’m still stronger.” The demon hissed. 

It wasn’t the sort of thing that came up in conversation but Marco was a soldier, or had been, and Darcio? Darcio’s path had been to be someone’s consort one day, an elegant whore, and whatever questionable breeding had gone into his creation hadn’t been geared towards matching an angel’s strength. 

“Let me up asshole." 

"No.” He yanked at the ribbon on the back of the corset, pulled it free of the eyelets with one deft movement then dropped it onto the ground. The corset fell open, exposing a muscular back and more swirling ink. 

Darcio went very still. “What are you doing?" 

That was a good question. What was he doing? What did he want? 

To show Darcio that things weren’t so different? That he wasn’t ‘as useless as a nightlight’? That he was still as capable and strong as he’d been before?

Yes, all of that sounded good. 

He hooked finger in the waistband of the panties Darcio was wearing and yanked them down the demon’s ass then left them to slide down his legs to settle around his ankles. The demon inhaled sharply then tossed him an uneasy smile over his shoulder. 

"If you wanted to fuck you could have said so. If you ask nicely I’ll even let you try out the rope we got for Jean. You used to like that, didn’t you?" 

Marco didn’t respond, focus on Darcio’s body as memories washed over him. He knew how to get what he wanted out of Darcio. 

He touched the demon’s tail near the base, watched Darcio’s breathe in and hold it as he ran a finger down to where the soft fur covered appendage met skin. He wrapped his fingers around it, pressed his thumb against the base and stroked over what he knew was sensitive skin. Pressed down then stroked around the base again, firmer this time.

"Don’t.” The word was a shuddering moan and when he glanced toward the demon’s face he saw color on his cheeks and a glassy sheen to his eyes. 

He pulled Darcio’s tail, hard. The demon shrieked. 

When he was with Jean had had to be mindful of how breakable humans were. Darcio on the other hand. 

Darcio’s back bowed, bringing his chest and stomach off of the table, head and neck still held in place by Marco’s other hand. He was frozen for a moment, stuck with his spine curved up and mouth open, and then he collasped into a boneless and whimpering heap. 

He released his tail and turned his attention upwards, using the pads of his fingers to trace the demon’s spine and the rune work tattooed there. He went slow, returning the shape and curve of each symbol to his memory, almost smiling when Darcio started shaking under his touch.

He was panting, shifting anxiously, moaning pitifully when Marco pressed against a knot of tension or a particularly sensitive spot. The runes were newest at the bottom, part of Darcio’s punishment for daring to love a human but the ones over and between his shoulder blades were well known, put in place by whoever had overseen Darcio’s education, to bind his wings. 

Demons were strange about that sort of thing. 

He took his hand off of Darcio’s neck and started to feel between his shoulders, sweeping his thumbs in tight circles until he felt what he was looking for: an extra something, bone and muscle, that were meant to control wing movement. He pressed, lightly at first, then harder. Dug his fingers in and massaged until all he could hear were soft needy noises and Darcio was red faced and wet eyes. 

The runes were starting to shimmer and ripple. He wasn’t sure if Darcio could feel them flaring to life or if he was too far gone. 

He moved one hand to between his shoulder blades and let the other return to the demon’s tail which had gone just as slack as the rest of him. 

There was a soft mewl of protest but Marco took it hand again anyway. Pinched the base to feel Darcio’s body tremble then pulled again in the same moment he pushed down on the spot all the runes met, along his spine and between his shoulders. 

The reaction was almost instant, a full body shudder, a shout, and wings unfolding as the runes melted. He had to duck back to avoid them and, when he moved back to look around then at Darcio found the demon glassy eyed and drooling. 

It wasn’t completely unappealing. 

He leaned over the demon’s body, pressing against his ass and putting his hands flat on the table on either side of the unresisting body.

“I didn’t need a sword or my unit to make you do things before and I don’t need them now.”


End file.
